


Like that old daft punk song

by Dragonsister899



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Golden Age, M/M, Pre-Fall, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, embarrassing dads (TM), enhanced guys doing enhanced stuff, post-SEP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-04-30 11:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14496126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsister899/pseuds/Dragonsister899
Summary: Series of one-shots exploring how Jack and Gabe are actually super-soldiers and how that translates to everyday life situations.





	1. Chapter 1

Jesse thunked his head as he sprawled onto a padded mat on the gym floor. Chest heaving, he let out a long groan as he tried to catch his breath. The indoor gym of the Grand Mesa base was alive with agents and personnel. People were training or just hanging out as they worked out with friends and colleagues, the atmosphere light and jovial. That is, it was for everyone besides one Jesse McCree.

The orange glow of the fluorescent lights on the inside of his eyelids faded to black as the light above him was obscured. He opened one eye to a squint up at the obstructer and closed it again with a groan as the source of his pain stood above him.

“Not bad,” said Commander Gabriel Reyes, the man Jesse was slowly coming to respect and maybe even possibly admire, not that he’d admit that to anyone. Jesse opened his eyes, looking up at Reyes in time to see the man smirk at the stopwatch in his hand and then back down to Jesse. “For an overweight suburban mother. I would have thought a pastime like being a highwayman would keep you more in shape.”

Jesse scowled. “Up yours,” he got out as he struggled to sit up. One he managed to be more or less upright, Reyes budged him in the side and the teenager fell right back over.

“That’s ‘Up yours, Sir’ to you, boy.”

“What’s going on over here?” came a new voice.

Jesse and Reyes looked over to see the newcomer, Strike-Commander Jack Morrison himself, walking over to join the pair in the middle of the gym track.

Reyes smiled as the other man approached and Jesse thunked his head again as he laid back on the floor, closing his eyes, “Fuck me in the ass, I don’t need this right now.”

“But you’d rather have something in your ass?” Morrison said, standing next to Reyes, “Kids today.”

Reyes’s smile turned coy. “You feeling young, sunshine?”

“Gross!” yelled Jesse from the floor.

“That’s ‘Gross, Sirs’ to you, Agent McCree.” Morrison nudged Reyes with a shoulder and nodded at the stopwatch still in the other man’s hand. “Standards?”

‘Standards’ was a word that sent chills through even the toughest Overwatch agent. Even as Morrison mentioned it casually to Reyes, several agents in the vicinity looked up with alarm. Upon seeing the two men standing over Jesse, they nodded knowingly and went back to their own work-outs. Everybody knew that the operatives and staff at Overwatch were the best of the best, often unique in their fields. From the legends at top of the totem pole like the Commanders, Captain Amari, or Crusader Reinhardt, even to the staff, like the scientists or technicians who work all day in the state-of-the-art labs, everyone at Overwatch was the best. And being the best meant living and performing to a higher standard than your average civilian.

Standards were the rigorous fitness requirements that all Overwatch field operatives must fulfill before they could see active duty. Jesse was no slouch himself, given his upbringing that was rife with danger and life-or-death situations. He’d survived on his own hard-won skill and grit, but Overwatch standards were something else.

Jesse groaned as an answer while Reyes’ smirk widened. “The kid’s a crack-shot, but he’s not in field-shape. A gun won’t help you in a 100 meter.”

“Maybe if I shoot the runners.” Jesse mused, “Or myself.”

“Come on, Agent, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Morrison said.

Jesse huffed, “Oh, I’m sure you’re just _swell_ at standards. I bet your prestigious pasty ass never ran these tests.”

There was a moment of silence and then the air broke with the force of Reyes’s guffaws. The commander clapped Morrison on the back, holding on as he bent over his knees, not even trying to catch his breath with tears beginning to run down his face.

Morrison himself smirked, looking at Reyes, “Yeah, yeah. Yuk it up, you and your insubordinate recruit are in for it now.” But the words were belayed by Morrison’s surprisingly fond tone and they had no effect on Reyes’ laughter as the commander slid down to the ground, still laughing.

After a few moments Reyes gathered himself, still chuckling. “Yeah Morrison,” he said, wiping the tears out of his eyes, “When was the last time you ran standards?”

Morrison smiled as he sat down, “You know damn well when the last time I ran standards was, Reyes, you were there.”

“Oh yeah?” Reyes sounded interested, “The records still hold?”

“You know they do, we haven’t had time to set new ones.”

“What record's are y’all yakkin’ ‘bout?” Jesse interrupted.

“You know the upper end of the standard? The elite shit?” Reyes lead.

“Yeah..?” Jesse said cautiously, starting to see where this was going. “You mean the 2 minute mile and the 750 kg dead-lift and shit?”

“Yeah,” Morrison said, “We set those,” gesturing between himself and Reyes, who nodded.

Jesse lifted his head, looking at the two men’s faces for any signs of bull-shittin’. But all he saw were the twin grins on the two commanders faces. “You mean all the elite records…”

“Yup”

“The ones that require wearing full field gear?”

“Yup”

“How the fuck?”

“Oh, y’know, American born-and-bred.”

“I’m American too, you ass, and I can’t do half the shit the two of you do”

“Well, there was that thing-“ Morrison began, looking at Reyes with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah true," Reyes continued. "But what could we have possibly gained from a year of top-secret government experimentation?”

“Pardon?” Jesse said after a moment.

Reyes waved a dismissive hand. "I don’t think that that soldier enhancement program the both of us went through and then were sworn to secrecy on has anything to do with why I can run laps around you, kid, I’m sure it’s something else.”

“What the fuck?”

Morrison nodded, playing along. “Yeah, like that secret facility, questionable drugs, terrible medical ethics, and rigorous training - ”

“I’ll give you something rigorous”

“Shut up Gabe, we’re being serious right now. Who would think that the only survivors of something like that would come out crazy ripped afterwards.”

“Wait a second, we weren't the only ones who made it out.”

“Nah, I think we were.”

Reyes looked at the ceiling pensively, “What happened to Garcia?”

“Training accident with the sniper rifles.”

“Didn’t Lee-“

“No, she had a complication with the injections towards the end.”

“Where was I?”

“Also having complications.”

“Oh yeah,” Reyes rubbed his goatee, thinking for a moment. “What about Thompson and Young?”

“Thompson got the shakes real bad and Young had that nervous break-down.”

“Young? Really?”

“Yup.”

“Wait, I thought Jones got out too?”

“Well of course Jones got out," Morrison allowed. "I think she retired to live with bears in Alaska, though.”

“Classic Jones.”

Jesse looked between the two men. “Excuse me, but what the fuck”

“Excuse you too, ingrate.” Said Reyes, turning back to Jesse. “What we’re getting at is that you’re going to have to eat a lot more greens before you even hope of catching up.”

Morrison began to stand. “You know the drill. Eat your Wheaties and make sure to drink your milk every morning.”He extended a hand to Reyes.

Reyes laughed, standing as well. “Always the farmboy.”

“Yeah, look where that got me.” The two men looked around at the training grounds, sharing a moment while remembering what they’d overcome and accomplished to be standing where they were.

“Well,” said Reyes after a minute. “If you’re not up to anything, we’ve got time to set new records now.”

Morrison grinned a bright smile. “I like where your head’s at, Reyes.”

“Not as much as you did last-“

“Gross!” Yelled Jesse from his forgotten spot on the ground. “Y'all're nasty."

Reyes shrugged unabashedly while Morrison's smile got even wider. He nudged Reyes with an elbow, "I've got time now."

Jesse laid his head back down with a small groan. He waived an arm from the ground, “I’m all set here, y’all go have fun runnin’ in circles.”

The two men looked at Jesse and then at each other. At an unseen signal, the two set off around the course, sprinting full-tilt, matching stride for stride, spurring each other on with elbows and tripped ankles. Before long, the two were playing a high speed game of tag around the track, lapping other agents with careless ease.

Jesse closed his eyes to the bright lights and let the sounds of the gym wash over him. Those two jackasses were perfect for each other.


	2. Chapter 2

“Thank you and goodnight. Please enjoy the party.” Ambassador Okoye stepped down gracefully from the podium with a smile to the polite applause that filled the ballroom. Evans looked out over the crowd, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. She and her agency had been hired to provide security for this event. It was a fancy dinner party hosted by Ambassador Hailey from the United States featuring several prominent world leaders and heads of state, as well as Hailey’s colleagues at the UN. It was a hot ticket event that drew the public eye, but it had managed to avoid scandal or controversy so far. Evans had been hired to make sure that that stayed the case. She and some of her team were mingling around with the guests on the ballroom floor, while she had others posted around the building, the parking garage the valets were using, as well as several other strategic locations. Nothing could go wrong tonight.

Ambassador Hailey took the stage and stood at the podium, politely waiting for the conversation in the room to settle. She began an eloquent speech about unity and peace and fruitful efforts for some cause or another. Evans tuned it out and continued to survey the crowd. The comm device in her ear that connected her to her team had thankfully remained quiet outside from routine check-ins, but that was no reason to become complacent.

Evans continued her roundabout path through the crowd, and if it happened to lead her to the bar, then so what. She was a professional and felt no need for a drink. She sighed. Yeah, right. Before she could make it to the bar at the corner of the ballroom, she felt a small tap on her shoulder. She put on her face for dealing with drunk guests and turned.

“Hello, how can I help –“ She stopped. In front of her was a tall, built man in a dress uniform. American most definitely. She put him at over 6 feet, blonde, fair complexion, probably late 20’s. Also, he was the famous Overwatch agent Jack Morrison.

“Sorry to bother you while you’re working, ma’am.” He had a faint midwestern accent, Evans noted. He couldn’t have appeared more obviously American if he tried. “Do you know who vetted the staff for this evening?”  
“That would be me,” Evans said. “If there is a complaint on terms of service, I could put you in touch with their agency.”  
“Well, no, the service is fine, I have more a safety concern.”  
Evens barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Great, another man who thought she needed pointers on how to do her job. She just managed to keep her pleasant expression on her face.

“Yes, what happened and how can I help?” She asked, waiting for some idiotic complaint about the flawless operation she was running tonight.

Agent Morrison paused for a moment and then lifted the champagne glass in his hand.

“Ok, well, this drink has been poisoned and I’m not sure whether it was the barkeep or the waiter.”

Evans had not been expecting that. “Ex-excuse me?”

“Yeah, I think there’s..." He took a sip, looking into the distance with a squint. "Strychnine in this champagne.”  

“Strychnine?” Evans repeated, as if saying it herself would make this scenario make sense.  
"Yeah it has a very distinct flavor profile. I'm told it's a nasty convulsant, and in doses like this it could cause seizures, breathing failure, and brain death." He paused and looked into the glass. He looked back up to her and shrugged, "Or at least that's what I'm told."

"Well if you're sure, sir." Evans said faintly.

Morrison nodded, “This isn’t my event, and I’m not sure who did it, so I figured I’d alert security, and I believe you’re the head of security tonight? Miss...” he looked at her name tag, "Evans."  
Evans was still looking at the glass. Surely he must be joking. She was convincing herself that this was some sort of prank or he had already had too much to drink and was just out of it. But what sort of drunk could come up with 'strychnine' while shitfaced enough to pull something like this?

Morrison seemed to see someone in the crowd and beckoned with a nod and in a moment, another large man joined them. Instinctively, Evans looked him over. Also above 6 feet, dark complexion, probably Hispanic, visible scars on the face, most likely late 20’s. He was wearing the same dress uniform Morrison was. She mentally kicked herself. Of course he was wearing the same dress uniform, this newcomer was Commander Gabriel Reyes, also of Overwatch, Morrison’s direct superior. Reyes stood next to Morrison and held a hand out to Evans. "Officer." He said in a smooth voice with an American west-coast accent. He turned to Morrison. “What’s so important that you call me over here and interrupt my scintillating conversation with Lady Heathcarrow about her single niece that just loves 'darker men'?”

"Yikes." Morrison said with a small laugh, looking over Reyes' shoulder at a tiny, ancient woman who waved back cheerily.

"Yeah. Moving on, what's up?"

“Right, well I was telling Officer Evans here that my drinks been poisoned.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it this time?”

“See for yourself, I’m no snitch.”

Before Evans could do register this ridiculous conversation or stop Reyes, the man took Morrison’s drink out of his hand with a huff and took a sip, swishing it in his mouth like some sort of connoisseur.

“That’s strychnine.” He said almost immediately.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” agreed Morrison, who turned to Evans eyebrows raised, like she would back up his claim that he had in fact tasted the strychnine in his champagne. Evans was still stuck on the fact that these two men had willingly drunk from a poisoned glass and now looked to her to catch the culprit.

“Uh, ar-are you feeling ok, sirs? Do we need to call an ambulance or some medic or-“

“No, we’ll be fine,” said Reyes, raising a hand as if to placate her. “Was it the barkeep or waiter who slipped something in?" He asked, looking to Morrison. "Or was it another guest?” Reyes added with a small sort of relish, as if the idea of someone poisoning his agent was intriguing. 

Morrison shrugged, “I was talking to Senator Rosswald and I didn’t have a drink, so a waiter came by and Rosswald gave me the glass.”

“Wow, Morrison, learn to pay attention.” Reyes scolded, seeming disappointed that Morrison hadn't unearthed a larger conspiracy.

Morrison scowled, “I pay attention.”

“Obviously not if you don’t know who tried to poison you. What is this, amateur hour?”

Evans was clearly hallucinating if this is what her night had turned into. 

“Are you… are you sure it was one of the staff, sir?” She asked Morrison. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Well I don’t know why anyone’d wanna kill me,” Reyes interrupted him with a bark of laughter. “Shut up, Reyes, this is serious,” Morrison continued. “There might be someone here with an axe to grind, but if I’m remembering the guest list right, there shouldn’t be anyone here who’d be at the point of assassination attempts.”

“Besides me, you mean” Reyes threw in. 

“Well, yeah, of course.” Morrison said as if that were a given.

Evans wanted to go home. “I’ll have my men search the staff compartments for anything and we’ll lockdown the doors and keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”

“Sounds good, ma’am,” Morrison said, almost quick enough to block Reyes’ comment of “I’d think a poisoning is pretty suspicious already.”

Evans decided to ignore that as she turned and began to relay her instructions into her earpiece. She could see her team scattered across the ballroom begin to move. She turned back to the two Americans, who were bickering in the fashion of old married couples, meaning that half of it was spoken through facial expressions and it was nigh unintelligible to anyone listening in. 

“I’ve set my men searching the venue for any sort of evidence or guilty persons,” She interrupted.

Morrison and Reyes nodded, seemingly satisfied. Evans watched as Morrison absent-mindedly try to take another sip of the poisoned champagne, only for Reyes to place his hand in between the glass and Morrison’s mouth.

“Idiot, what are you doing, that’s evidence.” Reyes scolded, sounding more long-suffering than concerned about his friend’s life.

“It’s good champagne, is what it is.” Morrison said under his breath, tugging the glass away from Reyes.

Reyes just rolled his eyes. "If you start on again about 'unique flavor profiles' again-"

"It adds a whole new layer of flavor, Gabe!"

Evans couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After a few minutes of listening to the two go back and forth over what poisons or other toxins added key flavor elements or a certain “pizzazz” to the foods they were in, Evans considered bumping up her retirement plans.

Soon enough, her earpiece crackled to life.

“Boss, we got the culprit in the kitchens,” came So’s voice over the comm. “We found a vile of suspicious liquid in his bag and when we confronted him, he tried to run. He’s handcuffed in a supply closet right now.” 

“Good job,” Evans answered. “Keep him there and call the authorities and poison control. I’m on my way over.”

“Roger that, Boss. So out.”

Evans turned back to the two men, who looked at her with expectant expressions. She cleared her throat, “My men have apprehended the culprit and have him securely under lock-down. If you would like to press charges, please make a statement to the local authorities.”

“Got it, thank you for your time and efforts, ma’am.” Morrison said, with a nod. “I’d shake your hand,” He continued, “But I don’t think you’re immune to strychnine, and I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Smart move,” Evans said after a moment of awkward silence.

The local police had arrived in short time and took the culprit into custody, as well as taking the statements of everyone involved. Evans would always treasure the look on the policeman’s face when Morrison told him that he’d detected the poison by it’s ‘unique flavor profile’. The party became an active crime scene, and the police investigation killed the mood for the afternoon, so the even was cut short. Guests left after a short apologetic speech from Ambassador Hailey and soon after, once the police had interviewed the remaining staff, everyone packed up their equipment and left as well. The police took her statement and dismissed her and her agency in short time, saying they’d done all that they could and that she’d done the right thing by alerting them. Evans chose to ignore that dig at her competence as a security officer, as she was tired and wanted to go home.

The night was soon over and as Evans began her trip home, she sincerely hoped to never see those two weird-ass Americans ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to look up several lists of deadly poisons for this chapter, so I'm definitely on some sort of government watch list.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a handful of ideas for this fic, so there will be updates eventually. If you have suggestions or comments, I'd love to hear them.


End file.
